The Memoirs of a Nutter
by LimeyMelodies
Summary: My first series. It is of Jack Winchester and her stuggle to hide the body of her stalker. Please do leave Reviews! I need more feedback! Badger-Dee
1. GoodBye, Bob!

"Memoirs of a Nutter"

The girl looks at the thick and wrinkled "letter". "What's wrong, Bobby?" grimly thinks Jacklyn (Jack) Thyme Winchester. "Is this your first stalking?" She punctuates this question with and even grimmer chuckle as she hands over the letter to her twin sister, Francesca (Frankie).

"I don't like him at all, Jack," says her other present sister, Alexandria (Alex).

"What am I to do, Alex? Torture him?" questions Jack.

Both Alex and Frankie grin and simultaneously say, "I would."

"But, that's **illegal**. I cannot afford to get my butt in trouble right now!" says Jack.

Alex pulls out her own copy of How to Survive a Stalker, "'Cause you have and continue to seek 'legal help' via an 'attorney'."

This is not uncommon to have Jack and Alex butting heads. After all they are the extremes of a six girl family. Their father, Jeff, never had a chance with the estrogen-filled house, even when the two sets of twins were off to college. He had an enormously hard time with the girls after their mother, Jessica, died of cancer back when Jack and Frankie were sophomores. Often he would call them in order of births. "Jacklyn Thyme! Francesca Lane! Louisa Joan! Samantha Heart! Tracey Lea! Alexandria Lynn!" The six of them would run down the stairs from their three bedrooms, bathroom and recreation room, for the second and attic floors. Once they hit the second set of twins, Jeff decided it be best if the girls all lived upstairs together. This became a mandatory unspoken rule when Jessica died.

Where was I? Oh, yeh. "PLUS, college, Alex," argues Jack.

"Shy are you still in college?! You already did your four years! If I were you, I'd get out of there with graduating EARLY…," says Alex

Jack rolls her eyes and her twin steps in. "It's called a master's degree, you dum-dum," states Frankie. "Come on you two, let's get inside. Tracey is waiting for us in the place." She opens an old semi-rusted baby blue door fro m the side of the brick building to their left. "**Come on** before it rains."

Alex enters with no questions, Jack, on the other hand, looks up to the sky above the alley. The night sky has only a few clods whisking alongside the stars and the full moon. "What is she thinking?" ponders Jack. "Nothing's up there… Bah. 'Don't question the weathergirl.'" She follows Frank into Tracey's Bar, Wolves' Den.

The three girls walk up to the bar and take their seats on maroon barstools. Behind the mahogany bar, the bartender is wiping at an already clean beer mug. She hums softly to herself a country tune about tears in an alcoholic beverage. "Go figure with Tracey," thinks Jack. She faces Alex and Frankie and grins. The two sisters shake teir heads and lip "no". Too late for any protests. Jack slams the heels of her army style bots on the top of the bar. Tracey whips around with ahand gun and points at the source of the noise, Jack. Jack grins, removes her feet, palces her finger in the end of the barrel, and leans over the bar to get a rag. Tracey rolls her eyes and lowers the gun. Jack shrugs and begins wiping down the bar with the rag to remove the dirt.

From behind her, Jack hears two familiar sets of foot steps. She grins again and says, "A horse walks into a bar..."

"Poor horse! What? Was it blind? That would have hurt!" exclaims Samantha (Sam).

"Do you fell bad for him?" Jack sarcastically asks Sammy as she and her twin, Louisa (Louie) sit. They sit to her right. To her left, Frank sits closest to her, having Alex sitting next to **her** at the corner of the bar.

"Yes..." pitifully says Sammy. The six girls begin to laugh, but are soon rudely interrupted by a smakc of Jack's living nightmare.

A slam of the door forces all six of the girls to turn to the ruckus. A tall figure walks in and says, "I want a beer..." Of course, this is a lie. This is Robert Robertson (His parents must have hated him). This is Jack's stalker.

Jack would tell you when she met her psychology teacher for her undergrad degree; she thought that was just it, totally professional meeting and nothing more. If you ask Bob Robertson, he wodl tell you that's when he met his soul mate. He soon folllowed and harassed Jack. She changed phone numbers and moved a countless number of times. For a a year and a half now, he has been from undying love to love me or die.

Tracey, with her fast paced and business mind, calls, "The bar is closed for a private meeting. You can get your beer tomorrow. But, tonight you must leave, unless you want the cops called on you, she pulls out her handgun again, "OR worse."

"Just let me talk to Jack!", exclaims Bob.

"Talk or **kill**?" asks Louie. "I'm not letting you near my sister, either way, BOB!"

"Talk! I just wanna talk!" exclaims Bob and slams his head and hand on a nearby wall.

"Sure, and I'm a scientist!" says the architect, Frankie.

"You're an architect. You're not a scientist," drearily says Bob, obviously confused.

Frankie and Jack exchange looks. "She'll love you when pigs fly," says Frankie.

"But, pigs **can't** fly!" exasperatedly cries Bob. He starts to sob and curl into a ball of a broken beast. "Just wait a couple of mintues," thinks Jack, "Next, he'll come at me... he always does."

"Oh! So, you **can** solve word problems!" exclaims Alex. "Good boy, Bob!"

"But, she'll love when pigs fly, but pigs cant' fly..." mutters Bob. "Pigs fly, she'll love me... We're meant to be, but she won't love..." He becomes frustrated and enraged with the simple ironic sentence, he suddenly charges at Jack. Before he can even get three feet from Jack, his head is slammed to the floor. His neck is pinned between the wooden floor and the heel of Louie's boot, gasping for air. He faces Jack trying to plead for air, and instead winds up looking like a fish gasping for water. The other sisters, excluding Jack, all surround him. Sammy squats next to his face. Tracey places her boot calmly on his right ankle and aiming her gun at his head. Frankie on his left ankle and Alex on his left wrist.

"Guess what, Bob!" coos Sammy to Bob. "Game over, man." Bob's right hand flies up and almost immeadiately has a hole through the center of the hand's palm. Sammy jumps back next to Jack. Jack casually leans down to her and asks, "Does Sammy need her teddy?"

Sammy looks up and nervously smiles. Jack Pats her sister on the head and rises, sitll facign Bob.

Tracey has his head in her sights once more, "If you even THINK of moving, I'll blow a hole through that thinck skull of yours."

"Cool it, Tracey..." Frankie says before Jack can even open her mouth. "We don't need more blood on your new floor. Be cooool."

Tracey nods and lowers her weapon, "Yeh, Cool." Bob releases a ragged sigh of relief and almost begins to sob once more.

"I wouldn't cry if I were you, Bobby boy," coos Sammy. "You might choke."

"That would definitely be a waste of our efforts," agrees Louie.

"Louie?" asks Jack. SH elooks at her siter in the eye and doesn't even need to speak her request.

Louie nods and relieves enough pressure on Bob's throat so that he may speak.

He immediately garbles, "Thank you. Thank yoy. Thank you..."

"Shut up, Robert," growls Jack. "Now, you have two choices. Go get help and participate in therapy for this obession. Or, the six of us can kill you right here."

"Never," gargles Bob. "Never, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I loveyou. I love you. I love you. I love you..."

"Well, I'm sorry to do this, Robert," says Jack ignorign the redundant confessions of a false and twisted love. "But, you did do this to yourself."

"Just think of it as thoguht you messed up a trick, Jack," says Frankie. She know what her twin is about to do.

"I love you. I love you," Bob continues to chand this as though it is a special spell that will make what is now HIS nightmare go away.

"you tried to take my life away; now I take yours," says Jack. WIth this, she jumps onto Bob's skull. His head is immeadiately crushed. No longer does Dr. Robert Robertson say to his class, "A mind is a terrible thing to waste." wearing his morning coffee on his hideous ties paired with nausea-inducing button-up sweaters.

"'terrible thing to waste.' ... Eh, Bob?" Jack asks the lifeless corpse.

"YOU GOT BLOOD ON MY FLOOR!" shrieks Tracey. "YOU BETTER CLEAN THIS UP!"

"Don't worry, Trace. I've connections. THis will just go away," serenely says Jack. "We'll be fine."


	2. Suggestions, Anyone?

(Chapter 2)

"Good, well call them!" says Tracey. She sits down where Alex had been moments before. She slumps back and stares at the corpse, lying in the puddle of blood. The blood was no longer the familiar crimson red. Instead, it was almost black underneath the cheap fluorescent lights.

"Okay," says Jack. "There might be a slight problem with that." She bows her head and scratches the back of her head, a trait she picked up from their father. Both do this instead of admitting that they have messed up.

"You don't know anyone?!" asks Frankie. Her eyes enlarge to the size of half dollars. Her mouth hangs open as though the muscles connecting to her jaw was suddenly disconnected.

"Not true! She know us!" states Alex. She grins her wicked grin and walks away from the corpse.

"Okay, so I LIED about knowing connections… so what?!" asks Jack. She sits in the stool she originally sat in, grabs the rag she was wiping down the bar with, and wipes the blood and bits of brain and skull off her boots.

"'So what?!' I have a dead corpse in my bar!" shouts Tracey. She rises and briskly walks around behind the bar.

Sammy raises her hand. "What?" asks Tracey as she pulls out a glass pop bottle.

Sammy furrows her brows and scowls at Tracey, then asks with a grin, "Do you know any other way a corpse can be, other than dead?"

Alex, Jack, and Louie chuckle at the comment. Frankie passes by Sam and tells her under her breath, "I don't think it's a good time to tick off Trace, Sam," and takes her stool back in her possession. Sammy follows her lead. Louie takes her place once again by her twin's side and Alex once again sits at the corner.

Tracey pours herself some pop and takes a sip. She sighs and points to the headless carcass, bottle still in hand, "The POINT is: I have a dead Bob in my bar… Not quite a great attraction, even for barflies. So, what are we going to do about it?" She takes another drink.

No one says a word. Both sets of Twins look at their twin and shrug. Then, Alex raises her hand for attention, "Burn it? You know, here?"

Tracey almost spits out her third sip, "HELLO?! WOODEN FLOOR?!"

Alex grins," Yeah… Black market?"

Sammy shakes her head, "Nah. I think it'd be too hard to sell a psychology professor when his brains are all gone."

"Sorry!" says Jack and motions Tracey that she wants a pop. "I was kind of trying to get the whole fiasco over with!"

Tracey hands her a cold glass bottle of root beer. Jack nods a thank you, twists the metal cap off, and takes a sip.

Louie furrows her brows, this time sincerely, unlike her twin, "What about a morgue?"

"And, let some creepy mortician get a hold of him?!" yells Frankie. She grins because she knows what is coming next.

"Who are you calling a creepy mortician?!" questions Alex. She stands up, even though she's right beside Frankie.

Frankie doesn't even rise with her. "Oh, please. You're not even a mortician!" yells Frankie.

"I'm dating one!" argues Alex. She huffs up, as though she's auditioning for the part of the wolf in "The Three Little Pigs".

"By the way, how's that going?" asks Louie, in one of her rare moods of orneriness.

"Yeh, are you gonna be the Addam's Family?" asks Sammy with her usual grin.

Tracey and Jack both stare at the corpse, sipping their pops, thinking.

"He's not THAT weird!" argues Alex.

"Come on!" says Louie. "He prefers dead people!"

"He should enjoy Bob's company then!" laughs Sammy. Louie and Frankie nod in agreement. Alex simply says, "NO!" and flops back into her stool.

"WHY YES! Let's take Bob to our future brother-in-law," jokes Frankie. Alex gasps and glares.

Jack turns to Tracey. "Why not donate the body to science? Ya know, as a cadaver?" she asks Tracey. Tracey nods in thought.

The others hear this and temporarily close this session of picking on the baby. Alex grins widely and asks, "They do that?!"

The five others nod as if to say, "No, duh."

"Yeh, Alex, it's called 'donating your body to science'!" Jack tells her as though she's three and punctuates her sentence with raising her eyebrows, opening her eyes wider, and smiling brightly, as though she was saying that there's a magical world filled with bunnies, cookies, and other wonderful things. She turns to them all in general and says, "It's just so happen that it's none of our bodies. It's Bob's."

"How are we going to do that?" asks Alex.

"What's with this 'we' stuff, pre-college kid?" asks Frankie.

"What?!" asks Alex. "Oh, nuh-uh, no way! Not me!"

"Dude, you're the baby. You know how to act innocent!" starts Jack. "Besides, like you said, you are dating a mortician!"

Louie adds, "You know you can get him to help us."

"But-I…" says Alex. "I don't' want to freak him out!"

"Tell him the truth," suggest Louie.

"That my oldest sister murdered and my older sister maimed the oldest sister's stalker?!" questions Alex. "Not in that order, of course. But, still that is not very sane!"

"Self-dense and defense of a sibling," says Sammy. Her almost ever-present grin doesn't currently reside on her face. "We can easily say self-defense. I can almost guarantee he had a weapon on him too."

Alex thinks on this and agrees, "Someone hand me the phone."


	3. Not, Lucy!

Chapter 3

Frankie asks Tracey for a pop a sip and then spits it right back out.

Jack raises an eyebrow and nonchalantly asks, "What?"

"Your idea's flawed!" Frankie yells out as she starts the thought process. "You need a written contract from said decease member to submit their remains!"

"Lemme guess," says Louie. "Jason the lawyer."

"Mr. Ironic!" cheers Sammy and her grin returns.

"He wasn't 'ironic'!" argues Frankie.

"The dude's last name was Vorhees!" says Jack. She takes a sip. "Well, we'll just take Bob's body to Daren, like Louie suggested." Louie nods in agreement of her recognition for the best idea.

"Hope he's in a sociable mood," says Sammy.

"We're not putting him in my truck!" yells Tracey.

Louie motions for a drink and says, "We'll just have to wrap him up really tight in tarps. He's going in the truck."

"What?!" asks Tracey. "She's brand new!"

"She's almost ten years old!" argues Jack.

"She's only six," pointedly argues Frankie. "Give Lucille more credit!"

"Lucille" is the name dubbed upon the six year old Ford F-250 extended cab. Ladies and gentlemen, chicks and dudes, this is Tracey Winchester's current pride and joy. The truck is a two-tone of a funky color of green/blue with a light grey, dressed up with chrome and CB antennas. A stainless steel toolbox and steel running boards accent he grey just right. Lucille can be considered the icon of Tracey's business etiquette; unusual to what is the rest of the surroundings, yet neat and efficient.

There I go again! My most sincere apologies, man! I don't' mean to irritate anyone!

"The point is: Tracey has a truck," says Jack. "We need a truck. So, it's common sense to use Lucy."

"Okay, Hot Shot, what about the tarps?" asks Tracey. "It's not like you carry tarps around!"

"True," says Jack. "But, Frankie does."

"What?!" exclaims Frankie. "Those are BRAND NEW tarps!"

"Yeh, the last one you had were thrown away because one of them had a hole," says Jack. "You use them like toilet paper! Heck, if it's such a big deal to you, I'll replace them!"

Frankie huffs and says, "Fine, but we're using THE USED ones. None of the virgin tarp!"

"Why in the world would you carry tarp?" asks Louie.

"Why not? I can keep my baby clean!" say Frankie. She smile her charming "lead you to hell and back" smile.

"It's settled then," says Jack. She takes another swig of her root beer. "You'll have to Daren's place on the backstreets," she says as she points to her baby sister, root beer bottle, once again, still in hand. "Lucille is in no way inconspicuous." She faces Tracey, "Did the word 'incognito' ever show up in your vocabulary while fixing her up? I love her, but… it sucks for the situation." Tracey just grins and lowers her head a bit, in her usual "aw, shucks" mannerism, another trait one of the girls picked up from their father.

"How about some music?" asks Alex.

Tracey nods and goes to her jukebox. (Yes, you read this right. Her jukebox, just like anything else she owns, she made sure she was not in debt.) She punches in an eight digit code twice and punches in various six digit codes for songs. It's nice having a computer engineer as a sister, Alex.


	4. The Chapter of Rants

Chapter 4

"Darren?" asks Alex into the Wolves' Den's only phone.

The non-twin twins are conversing. Louie and Frankie have taken a booth and are speaking in French. Meanwhile, Sammy and Jack are singing "A Little Priest" from "Sweeney Todd", after discussing who should play Sweeney. Jack won because of her lower range… not that she's a bass!

Tracey is meticulously making sure the blood won't stain and whining the whole time… scrubbing at the floor with a brush and rag.

Jack doesn't even answer with the next line when she hears Tracey mutter, "It's a pain in the ass to get blood out…" as she scrubs even harder. Instead Jack says, "Trace, don't be that way…" She kneels across her sister on the other side of the blood blot, removes her fingerless gloves, places those in her right pocket, and picks up a rag from the soapy and bloody bucket. She begins to help with what's left of the blood on the wooden floor.

"You know what a bitch it is to get blood out of wood?!" demands Tracey and shows remorse as Sammy joins them, alongside of Jack. Sammy doesn't say anything to Tracey, but she DOES raise an eyebrow as though to ask, "Did I hear what I heard?" Her dark hazel eyes show her slight tsk-tsk attitude to Tracey's complaints as she grabs a rag, herself, and joins the cleaning circle.

"Sorry," breathes Tracey. Sammy simply nods and doesn't look up from her patient work on Bob's blood.

"What about a rug?" suddenly asks Jack, as though the argument was never halted, she waves her left hand as she asks this. Her black fingernail polish and pale skin look oddly stereotypical of a cutter's hand with the diluted blood.

Tracey grins at this thought; since, Jack is a know protestor of self-mutilation. She asks, as though still ticked, "A rug?" Sammy and Jack nod together, Jack's shaggy dyed hair and Sammy's natural dark brunette ponytail bounce in time. Tracey continues, "With THIS place?!"

Sammy says, without looking, once again, "A few rugs won't mean a thing to your barflies."

Jack chuckles, and follows Sammy's lead of not looking at Tracey and train of thought, "Heck, it'd make this place more… roomy… even."

Tracey sighs, pushes back her long, curly, and dirty blonde ponytail, and rolls her blue eyes. "True," she reluctantly admits as she dips her rag into the buckets revolting ex-water-and-soap concoction. The three continue on their scrubbing and silence with the only noise of the jukebox playing an actual rock song, Alex discussing the situation with Darren, and the other two speaking in French.

"I don't get it." Tracey is the one to break the three's silence this time.

"What?" simultaneously ask Jack and Sammy, neither look up from their space of cleaning, but both stop and grin at the very familiar coincidence.

"You two act more like twins with each other than with your ACTUAL twins," says Tracey. She stops scrubbing, she places the brush aside and drops the rag in the bucket. The force of the wet rag propels some of the fore said concoction right in front of Sammy. NOW, Sammy looks up at their sister with a "You have to be kidding me…" look. "Sorry," mutters Tracey, sincerely. She sits on her feet waiting for answer.

Finally, Sammy and Jack are satisfied with their work and place their rags in the bucket. "We're more alike each other," says Jack as she and Sammy take their original seats. Tracey joins them on the other side of Jack.

"I mean," says Sammy, as though SHE was the one talking. "Look at those two! They are more alike each other, as well!"

"We have our differences, yeah," says Jack as she replaces her fingerless gloves at their appropriate places. "But, our similarities are too… I dunno… powerful?" Her hazel eyes light up when she arrives at the word of "powerful", she's not power-hungry… she's pretty modest; just like Sammy.

"You and Alex are more alike than you'd like to admit," states Sammy and re-does her ponytail, her hazel eyes darken as though to convict Tracey of this fact.

"A LOT more," adds Jack and takes hold of her pop and takes a sip.

"How do you two see that?" questions Tracey. Her tone and her eyes show her disbelief. She has a reason to not believe the pair; they ARE known for pulling people's legs, preying on the most gullible. All of their jesting is done in light-hearted humor, of course.

"Well, let's start with…" begins Jack. She stops as Sammy and her think briefly. Sammy, then finishes her sister's sentence fragment, "… with Frankie and Louie."

Jack point at them, making her fingerless gloves even more obvious, "They speak French," says she. "In fact, they're the only ones in the family that do," she adds as she lowers her hand.

"They are, generally, quiet," adds Sammy, finally done with her ponytail.

"They are the most level headed," chimes Jack and straightens out her top shirt with one hand.

Sammy notices something on HER shirt and adds, "They have similar appearances."

Tracey chuckles at this statement combined with the fact of the two speakers are acting the same.

"You and Alex," says Jack while readjusting the long, black and white striped, long sleeves of the lower shirt that she has on after placing her pop down. Tracey raises an eyebrow.

"You worry," says Sammy and takes a sip from her pop. "Alex hides it a lot better, but she worries also."

"You're the only blondes…" says Jack as Tracey takes a sip of her own pop.

"And blue-eyed girls in the family," adds Sammy.

"You're overly-organized," says Jack.

"And always planning," adds Sammy as Tracey takes another sip.

"You two are more obvious though," says Tracey as she lowers her pop. "You both throw one-liners width ease, are almost always laid back…" she stops to think up more.

Alex joins in the conversation with adding, "Neither of you are serious about life. Dark humor is NATURAL for the two of you."

"At times," says Tracey. "it seems as though you two share a brain, at others you are actually connect to your TRUE twins." She takes shakes her head and takes another sip.

Sammy and Jack nod at this and face Alex as she says, "Yeh, and when you are together, you can just be general pains in the butts! With—With…" She becomes to flustered to think up what she has to say in order to articulate what is on her mind. Her blue eyes become almost green.

Tracey rolls her blue eyes once again and grins. "The pranks," she adds.

"The half sentences," adds Alex and waves her right hand as emphasis.

"The one-liners definitely…" says Tracey and tugs at her pony-tail as she finishes. "get frustrating. Not all of us are that fast."

"The modesty really gets irritating!" adds Alex. Her and Tracey laugh at this as Tracey adds, "Yet, you two can be so … SMUG! If I didn't know you two, I wouldn't have thought that was possible!"

"Here, here," says Alex and lifts up her pop. She takes a sip and then snaps her fingers. She adds, "And, the inside jokes!"

Jack leans towards Sammy and mutters, "Books with excellent hair." The two of them start to giggle at this. Tracey babbles as they chuckle, "Yeah! That! And, flippin' COLD WET WATER!"

"And, Jack's soul," smugly adds Sammy.

"Dude," says Jack to Sammy under her breath and through one side of her mouth, "we don't want to rall them all up so much that they'll explode!" The pseudo-twins laugh at this as Tracey and Alex give them the death glare.

Across the bar, Louie and Frankie have been speaking in English to each other since the comparison of Jack and Sammy.

"Do you think it'll work," asks Louie, her dark tight-curled hair pulled away from her face.

"A black cat crossed my path today…" begins Frankie.

Louie does one of the most rare thing for her to do, she rolls her dark brown eyes and interrupts Frankie, "As the pranksters have told you before, 'Silly superstitious sister, irrational fears are for phobics!'" She punctuates this with an amused smile and a playful hint in her chocolate eyes.


	5. TO THE MORGUE!

Chapter 5

"No! We should've used the new tarps," says Sammy as she steps into Jack's dark red Volkswagon Beetle's front passenger seat. Meet the Lady Bug. At one point in time, she had black polka dots, courtesy of Tracey. Now, she is just her simple blood red. Jack calls her Ida.

"Noo, noo, noo!" says Jack as she takes her seat at the driver position. "I don't want to be killed!"

Louie grins and rolls her chocolate-like eyes as she sits inside of Lucy. "Pseudo-twins…"

Alex sits in the revealed go-devil of a Pontiac Trans-Am. Yeah; Frankie has a reason to cover up her Baby. The cars deep blue and white decals gleam under the old gnarly halogen lights.

"Oh, no, no," says Frankie. "YOU are NOT driving my car!"

"**I** know the way!" says Alex. Her wrapped hands wrap around the black leather steering wheel, as if to say, "MINE." Frankie sighs and sits shotgun.

Tracey was barely able to get to her seat and buckled in, when Frankie's Baby is revved up.

Alex shoots out further into the alley, leading the way. Tracey easily follows her and is followed by Jack.

In the Trans-Am, Alex and Frankie are discussing how to get to Darren's workplace… AKA: MORGUE. In Lucy, Louie and Tracey are jamming to some rock. And in Lady Bug, on a further end, Sammy and Jack are almost silent when Jack suddenly opens her phone and walkie-talkies all, singing in a Beatles-English accent, "Are we there yet? I'm tired. I'm hungry. How far?" She stops to laugh. Tracey takes this opportunity to remind her, "Dude, you're always hungry!"

"Yeh, and can sleep a few hours from now! Geesh…" adds Frankie. "Gee, THANKS, Frank," Jack growls under her breath.

"**I**, for one, think it's funny," snaps Alex. "Continue the quote/song."

Jack shrugs it off and continues to sing in the accent, "My nose is getting snotty. Need to move my body. Gotta use the potty. Let us stop the car."

"You always need to move!" argues Alex.

"Yeh, and YOU'RE the one driving," pointedly says Louie.

"Okay, WAKKO," sneers Frankie. She always gets grouchy when her "less good looking" twin steals the show with her wit, and Jack knows it. "Thank you!" Which in Jack-ish is "Bite me!"

"What are we going to tell him?" asks Tracey. Her voice hints toward her anxiety.

"The truth, of course," answers Sammy. "The truth and nothing but the truth. All of us should."

"I agree," states Louie, her soft voice sounding almost like an angel agreeing instead of their sister talking.

"Do you swear?" Jack asks in the Wakko accent and pauses for response. They all bite with Yeah's all around. "Hook, line, sinker," thinks Jack. She restrains herself from grinning, so Sammy won't give her next statement away. "Well, you shouldn't; it's not nice…" she answers, still in the Wakko accent.

Now, a group of laughs and a single groan leak through the walkie-talkie. That single groan was the princess, the "perfect" daughter", the weathergirl… Frankie.

"You've been watching 'Animaniacs'," states Alex. Like Sammy, Louie, and Tracey (and unlike Frankie), Alex knows Jack too well to ask stupid questions.

"Of course, yeh!" answer Jack (in her usual voice). "Hello?! Filmmaker?!" It's true; Jack has been filming skateboarding since she was a sophomore in college. That's how she met so many off-again on-again boyfriends, and how she got her reputation… And, possibly why Bob became fascinated with her.

"True. True," admits Alex, almost laughing.

"Okay, let's chatter among ourselves," says Sammy. "Alex let us know when we're about there, okay?"

"'Kay!" says Alex


	6. It's Just SO Sammy and Jack

Chapter 6

"So, how's the new boyfriend?" suddenly asks Sammy.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" says Jack "What?!"

"Oh, come on! You and I both know that you only do those if something's new," says Sammy. She grins and crosses her arms over her chest, just dripping with self-satisfaction. "Since Bob has been dead for only about a couple of hours, it has to be a new boy."

"Okay," says Jack. Her hazel eyes dart over to her phone and she closes it. "You can't tell the others…"

Sammy gives her a questioning look, "Yeah, yeah," says Jack. "Oaky, his name's Dean."

"You always had a thing for Deans," says Sammy. "Go on."

"He's working on the same project as I am," says Jack. "Gah, he's gorgeous… I swear he must've fallen on his head before he asked me out."

"The eyes?" asks Sammy and uncrosses her arms.

"You know it," says Jack. "He's hilarious. Not only is he like us, but also he has the physical comedy."

"What does he do?" asks Sammy and grins.  
Jack grins and looks up briefly, as though to ask for strength for the coming response, before saying, "Stunt double."

"A STUNT DOUBLE?!" asks Sammy. "Not a skater?!"

"Yeh," says Jack. "He should be an actor."

"Let me guess," says Sammy. "He's too modest."

"Yeh; he's too modest," says Jack. "You'd love him! He has a puppy!" Her eyes light up even more.

"You love him, don't you?" bluntly asks Sammy.  
"I might," says Jack. "I certainly adore him."

Sammy murmurs, "Mmhmm… Feel like a romance novel, yet?"

"Shut up," chuckles Jack. "I haven't thought of having kids with him, let alone kids' names."

"I don't understand how he can handle you," says Sammy, smiling and shaking her head. "You couldn't be held down by Dad, and it's pretty obvious that you've never mellowed out."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "Okay, okay," admits Sammy. "You haven't mellowed out on your anti-authoritarian views on life and are pretty much mellow in the other aspects."

Jack nods and says, "Here, here." She turns up "Breakfast in America" by Supertramp, that plays in the Bug's CD player, and softly sings along for a bit.

"Oh, so no screaming lady?" asks Sammy, referring to Jack's latest favorite band, The Dresden Dolls.

"Nope, I was in a Supertramp mood," says Jack. "You know how I am… varied and ever moving."

"Mmhmm," agrees Sammy and positions herself so that she is sitting cross-legged.

"So, how's Jack," asks Jack. "Your boyfriend?"

"No, I figured you were referring to yourself in the third person!" sarcastically says Sammy and shows an exaggerated smile.

"That's why I totally cleared that mess up!" chuckles Jack.

"He's doing well," says Sammy. "He's finally starting to get gigs with his band."

"Still plays guitar?" asks Jack. She rolls her eyes and grins. "I told him to play bass…"

"Yeh, he still plays guitar," says Sammy. "He got shot at near downtown while heading to his latest gig."

"WHAT?! Why wasn't I informed?!" demands Jack. "That's MY district! Let me tell you! This will be taken care of!"

"That is exactly why you weren't informed," mutters Sammy, while covering her face. "Plus, you've been gone…"

"This will be discussed later," says Jack. "I'm going to have a talk with Tony. He and his boys can help take care of this…"

"JACKLYN!" says Sammy. "Aare you part of the mafia?!"

"Noooo," says Jack. "Tony is a buddy of mine with the precinct. He and I have been trying to clean up the streets. Since I have my connections and he has his LEGAL ones. "

"Ah," says Sammy. "Fighting crime on your off time, eh?"

"Ha ha," Jack states in a monotonous drone as she takes a sip of her pop, "Very funny, I know."

"So, what does he look like?" asks Sammy as she lifts up her drink.

"Chick!" almost yells Jack. "You won't give up will you?!"

"Nope!" say Sammy with a full smug grin.

"Fine!" yells Jack and then, takes a deep breath. "He wears glasses, has shaggy dark brown hair…" She pulls her hair to demonstrate the color of his hair. "… usually clean shaven (if not slightly stubbly), and is fairly tall," Jack lists off to Sammy. "Are you happy now?"

Sammy somewhat pouts because she got her way without a fight. Jack rolls her eyes and does her very Jack thing to do… she quotes. She quotes off of Eddie Izzard in the style of grumpy Sammy, "'NO I'm not happy. I move the nook to the left, and it don't look right. I-uh… I'm going to go 'round town to put babies on spikes'…"

"WHAT?!" asks Sammy her minor bummed-out attack subsides. "What was THAT?"

"Eddie Izzard!" says Jack. "It's form Eddie Izzard!"

"Oh, yeah!" says Sammy, her smug grin ruining any chance of looking offended. "Compare me to a weirdo transvestite!"

"First of all, he's not a WEIRDO transvestite. He's an EXECUTIVE transvestite," says Jack. "And, secondly, he's a cute transvestite… for an older British gentleman…"

"So," starts Sammy. Her once slight grin has became a full on smile.

"Don't even…" warns Jack. Her face is the face of a victim who's fallen into a trap… the infamous "Well, crap." face.

"Do ya…" says Sammy, her grin is even wider.

"DON'T…" warns Jack, once again.

"Dress him up?" asks Sammy and begins to chuckle. "You know, in stilettos and such."

Jack sighs, shakes her head, and gets an idea. Her wicked smile surfaces and she says, "Well, I have to! Otherwise he'd be in bad drag… ALL THE TIME!"

Sammy's jaw drops… "Does he really?"

Jack sighs, "I can get him to put on a blouse… he wears eyeliner, already… Part of the job."

"I see," says Sammy and nods.

"Mmhmm," says Jack and grins.

"HEY!" yells Sammy. "That's MY word-noise."

"Well, you weren't using the word-noise!" says Jack.

"We're here!" says Alex over the Walkie-Talkie.

"Are we there yet?" Jack begins to sing in the Wakko accent. She is interrupted by Sammy's hand covering her mouth and Sammy yelling, "YES!"


	7. GoodBye, Princess Francesca

Chapter 7

Jack and Tracey are in the bed of Lucy trying to get the body removed while Louie and Sammy wait at the tailgate to grab the feet. Alex, Frankie, and Darren exit from the door where the morgue is set up. Darren briskly walks over to the side of the bed and asks, "Has rigor mortis set in?"

"Nah," answers Jack. "Not yet."

"What happens when rigor mortis sits in?" asks Louie, her right eyebrow raises.

"Bob will become stiff," answers Darren and pushes his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose.

Jack stops helping, removes a glove, blows a kiss, and says, "Good NIGHT, everybody! … As Yakko, would've said." Then, replaces the glove. The rest of the girls, excluding the "princess", laugh at this and Darren raises an eyebrow.  
"Does she do that a lot?" asks Darren.

"Only when she's in a good mood," Louie informs him.

Alex adds as Frankie and her flank him, "Or when she's got rid of some baggage."

"I see," comments Darren and then, studies the shroud of tarps and bungee straps that were being moved.

"You do?!" asks Jack, as though this is a great big coincidence. "I do too!" Some chuckle at this one.

"Is she alright?" Darren asks Alex, who stands at his left, leaning against him.

"I dunno. Why don't you ask her?" asks Alex. She punctuates this with an elbow in the ribs.

"Are you okay?" asks Darren and looks at her for the first time. This is the first time the two have met.  
"Dude, we're handling my stalker's body," says Jack. "We're lucky this situation isn't in reverse, man." He glances over at him and adds, "Neither of us want to bury Alex."

"What?" asks Sammy as she and Louie start to grab the feet and drag the body further out of the bed. "No limerick? No quote from a cartoon? No quote from a song?"

"Um… nope," says Jack and jumps out to the side of the bed, opposite of Darren, Alex, and Frankie are.

"Why not?" asks Louie as a grin appears on her face. Tracey carries the top half to the tailgate, places it there, hops off, and her and Jack pick up their end.

As she picks up her side, Jack says, "Copyright infringement."

"What?" asks Darren as he walks to the side of Tracey (on the left). "Where's the head? NO head?"

Sammy faces Jack and says, "Don't even."

"What?" Jack asks her in a pseudo-innocent voice.

"I know what you're thinking," says Sammy.

Tracey grins, "Yeah, yeah. I seen you."

Tracey and Jack look at eat other and laugh, "I SEEN YOU!"

Darren walks to the front of the morbid procession, to the door, and takes out his ID card. Jack adds, "Oh, by the way. If we weren't carrying dead Bob, I'd blow a kiss and say, 'Good NIGHT, everybody!' So, the great Yakko, had said."

The procession of moving the corpse is stopped as Darren fumbles with the key pad. Jack takes this time to shift the weight to her knee. Do the "Good NIGHT, everybody" gesture and then she looks down to the body and pats it. "Even you, Bobby!" She replaces her glove, back on, and then, the caravan is off again. Chuckles from all, except the Princess (once again), flood the fluorescent lit, mint green hallway. "Figures," mutters Jack to Tracey. "Frankie can't handle it."

Tracey grins and says, "Oh, goodness me, no! Miss Perfect cant' stand a little dark humor!"

"Doesn't she know?"asks Jack. Tracey shrugs, not know what Jack is talking about. "Doesn't she know NOT to take life seriously? It's going to kill her one of these days!" Trace gets a kick out of that.

Darren leads the way to his morgue. "Six in the building, and I get the best one," he brags to the girls.

They place the body in an empty slab. Frankie stays close to the door through which they entered the room. The others mingle around the large room. Jack and Sammy peer into jar with preserved body parts and little animals. Louie and Tracey find desk chairs and sit at another empty slab table and discuss who's better looking Orlando Bloom or Tracey Adkins. Alex lays on yet ANOTHER empty slab and yells, "LOOK! I'm dead!" and plays "dead".

"Jack?" asks Darren. "Could you come here please?"

"Can my other brain come with?" asks Jack.

"Sure?" says Darren, confused on whom she is referring to.

Sammy and Jack hustle over to the table. To those of whom are old enough or are dorky enough to imagine Jack (dressed in a pair of jeans, black hi-top Converses, black glovelets, her small black square framed glasses, a black ribbon as a choker, a long-sleeved, black and white striped tee covered with a dark purple tee that has the traditional "pirate flag" on the front, a lip ring to the right side of her bottom lip, a red horseshoe ring in her only cartilage piercing that is in her right ear, and her shaggy dark brown hair… oh, let's not forget. SHE PALE) and Sammy (dressed in a jean skirt, calf-high dark brown boots, a sparrow necklace, a blue and silver charm bracelet that Jack gave her, a green ASCPA rubber bracelet, a grey tee for "Pirates of the Caribbean", her long dark brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail, and her freckles, as usual) doing The Hustle… Thank you for not leaving me as the only one chuckling at the thought.

"Yo?" asks Jack as they flank him around the now de-cocooned dead body.

"She's you other brain?" asks Darren. "NOT Frankie?"

"Frankie may be my twin," says Jack. "But, Sammy and I agree on more things…"

"Plus, we share a brain," adds Sammy.

"Well, I was wondering," says Darren. "Did he actually stalk you?"

"Yeh," says Jack.

"Okay," says Darren. "I'll try to figure out how we can save all of our butts then, go ahead and have a seat on a slab, I know you two have been wanting to do so."

Jack and Sammy run over to the slab where Alex sits. "MOVE OVER," chuckles Jack as Sammy and her squeeze in beside Alex, to her left. And the three start to chatter.

All is pretty quiet for a while then… Suddenly, Frankie speaks, that is… She sighs and says, "Must we wait here. I do have a life you know?" (Okay, let me rephrase that… she sighs and WHINES…)

Jack jumps off of the table and strolls up in front of her twin. "You know what?" she asks Frankie in an even tone. "If you're so impatient to leave, then do what you want."

"FINE!" yells Frankie and startles herself in the process, her voice seemed too loud for such an eerie place to her, it seemed. "Come along, Alex." She stands up straighter, trying to portray as 

a superior being. In response to both her demands and her posture, she receives her keys in her face. She stumbles to pick up the key ring. She struggles to get up in her tiny stilettos and tight skirt business suit. Jack would call it a "don't sneeze" outfit. Darren obviously restrains himself from offering help to her. "Atta boy," thinks Jack.

Alex waves frantically from where she sits on the slab. "BYE-BYE!" she singsongs to Frankie. "See ya!"

Frankie scoffs, turns on one of the tiny heels, and… fall right on her fancy business skirted butt. "Oh no," sarcastically thinks Jack. "The Princess has fallen. QUICK get the army!"

Darren once again moves again, but yet again restrains himself. And, instead say, "I trust you can find your way out." His eyes matching the death glare Frankie tries on him.

"See you later, Frank," says Louie. Her once very angelic voice now drips with venom. If Jack had any doubt on whose side Louie was on, this definitely helped her know.

Francesca Winchester walks through the door with one last look at what's left of her blood family, her people, her disciples… so it seemed for a while. Even when she exited the room, there was still an air of Princess Francesca, a reign that had soon ended. "Thank goodness for formaldehyde," thinks Jack.


	8. The Mortician Figures Who Did What

Chapter 8

"So, how did Dr. Robert Robertson get his head blown off…" says Darren and studies the girls. Then finishes, "… probably by Tracey."

"HEY!" yells Tracey. She steps away from the pseudo-corner she claimed for herself, five minutes after Frankie left. "I may be a bit of an individual among individuals but, I can honestly says, 'I did not blow his head off', okay?" She leans back into "her" corner once again and mutters, "Oh yeah, blame the one with the guns."

Darren grins slightly and raises the corpse's right hand. "No," he states in a matter of fact way. "You just shot a whole with a two inch diameter in his right hand!" He grins even greater at Tracey's facial expression.

"He almost strangled Sammy!" protest Tracey. Then she has the family smug grin and says, "Plus, you have to admit, that's a great shot…"

"Okay, okay," admits Darren. "So, who's the skater?"

Jack raises her arm. "I'm the skater."

"I figured," says Darren. "You're past boyfriends have been skaters."

"Dude," says Jack. "I've been skating since BEFORE I even met any of them and worked with them. I've been living around them for the past five summer. Only three of them have been my boyfriend at one time. In fact, if any of the boys knew I was in town and that," she points to Bob's corpse, "THAT was going down…" she chuckles, "My man, there wouldn't be any more Bob left. You see, my sisters have SOME self-control, but the dudes, whom of which have adopted me as a 'little sister', don't' when it comes to someone hurting my family or I."

"After my examination, we need to talk," states Darren in a solemn tone. "Call up your boys, we'll need as many as we can get. And, Tracey, I'm sorry. We'll have to trash the Den. So, it'll look like an accident."

"WHY?!" Tracey almost pleads note ALMOST, Tracey Winchester NEVER pleads to Darren.

"We're gonna have a party," says Darren. "And, her boys are invited. Skaters are the best partiers."

"Do you know how long it'll take me to clean that up?!" yells Tracey as she steps forward , her western boots making an even clunking sound as she steps from her corner, once more.

"I'll be destroyed, paid for, and fixed as much as it can be at the time of said clean-up by the boys," says Jack. "As some as you turn those blue eyes on 'em, they'll be like putty… Well, at least some of them. Others may require some guilt tripping."

"Alright!" says Alex. "Let's move it!" and lays back on the slab, letting her legs dangle.


	9. FiftyNine and Counting

Chapter 9

"Yo, G," says Jack. "It's Jay… Yeh…" she listens further and laughs at a joke, "Yeh, I know, I know. Look, G, I'm in town and need some help from my boys." She pauses again. "Now, G, you owe me! ... For what?! What 'cha mean for what?! ... Uh-huh, I thought that incident would come back to mind. Uh-huh… Nah, I have a body I need a cover for… YEH, I'm for real! I may have a sick sense of humor, but I'm not THAT sick! ... Listen, listen… I KNOW, G… I know. Listen, is Bear there? ... Lemme talk to him… Why would I call him when I can just talk to him on your phone? ... mmhmm…" she definitely picked up the dialect with ease, now, "Hey, Bear! I missed you! ... Wha--? Nah, I've just been back for a couple of days… Yeh… Yeh… Right... Mmhmmm… Uh-huh… Yeh… So—so how many are you bringing? ... Five? Really… NO! NO! That's fine! I just figured you could bring your Little Red Riding Hood some more…" The last it is spoken like the true little sister she never was. "Uh-huh… All I'm saying is… mmhmm… Well, of course… Okay. Okay. We--…" she laughs again, "Yeh. Well, we'll meet you at Wolves' Den… No, it's not all country… What'd you expect form a blood sister of mine? ... Uh-huh. 'Kay, later, Bro…"

"How many does that give us… Jay?" asks Sammy with a note pad in hand and a smug grin in place.

"Thirty seven," answers Jack. "Twenty-five from Bear, himself."

"Okay, Little Red," responds Sammy.

Alex and Darren are studying Bob's corpse, still, and Tracey and Louie are back on the topic of who's hotter, Trace Adkins or Orlando Bloom.

Jack dials another number form memory and presses the call button. "Maybe, Boomer is in…" she mutters to herself as she lifts the phone to her ear.

Sammy hears this and chuckles at this as she scribbles in the notepad. "Well, we have thirty-nine so far."

Jack nods and then, her face brightens to the sound of a guy answering the phone, "Hey, Boomer! Guess who this is!" The guy's voice is so deep it booms through the little speaker… obviously, hence the nickname, "Jack?"

"Yeh," she answers, grinning.

"Dude, I haven't heard from you since last month!" he almost shouts. Jack takes the phone even further from her ear.

"Yeh, sorry!" says Jack. "I forgot to call! And, I'm sorry… But, this is for a favor…"

"JEEBUS, JACK!" says Boomer. "What'd you do? Kill a guy?" His laughter roars through the tiny speaker until he is laughing alone… "Jeebus…"

"Well, do you 'member the story of Bob?" asks Jack.

"Yeh," says Boomer, in a more solemn tone. "The son-of-a… Well, you know what I think of him."

"Well, your wishes came true. I killed him and we need it to look like an accident," Jack adds solemnly.

"How bad of shape is the… body?" asks Boomer.

"No head and a hole through his right hand," answer Jack.

"Ah, Tracey was there," Boomer chuckles.

"Yeh," chuckles Jack. "Hard to assume that, eh?"

"Did she blow his head off too?" asks Boomer. "That'd take another gun…"

"No," says Jack. "I did that. I told you I killed him…"

"How many do you need?" asks Boomer.

"As many as you can bring," says Jack. "You can even bring Jessie."

"She's gone," he says in a gloomy tone. "Just like you told me she would…"

"Don't get all wimpy on me, man," warns Jack. "I may be a chick but I won't let you slip, Matt!"

"True, true," admits Boomer AKA: Matthew Romney "I'll probably bring about… twenty. Where should we meet?"

"Thanks, Boomer!" says Jack. "See you at Wolves' Den."

"See ya," says Matt.

She hangs up the phone and stretches, "How many's that?"

"Fifty-nine," answers Sammy. "An ex?"

"Yeh," answers Jack. "Okay, next number…"


	10. Sammy Plays with Her Poor Sisters

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Well how many?" asks Louie. Ever since The Princess has left, she has been talking more and more, but to no one's real surprise. She walks over and sits beside Sammy and reads over her twin's shoulder. "129? How many can the Den hold?"

"150 people, Lou," says Trace, rolling in an office chair. Her boots click as she tugs herself alongside of Louie, near a slab. A huge grin covers her face. "I think we have enough."

Jack snaps her cell shut. "Add seven more. Will ya, Sam?" she asks as she thinks on something (or someONE else) and smile. Then she asks, "Can I invite one more?"

"Sam, how many would that be with the 'guest' that Jack speaks of," asks Louie.

"Including us?" asks Sammy. She adds it up in her head and writes it down. "143 if we accept the last person."

Tracey and Louie nod. Tracey speaks, "Yeah, that'll be good.

"Also we have to keep in mind some are going to be skating and hanging out outside IF we happen to gain more than expected," adds Jack, "So, may I?"

"Yep," says Tracey.

Jack nods and walks away from the other three as she dials on her phone.

Alex and Darren walk up to the group of three. Alex takes her usual stride; while Darren takes an anxious stroll. "Have we got everything set?" he asks as he sits on a nearby empty slab. Alex hops up next to him.

"Yeh," says Trace. "She's calling in one last guest."

"Odd," says Alex. "Only one?"

"You don't suppose she has a new boyfriend," says Lou.

The last three who have spoken now turn to Sammy.

Sammy automatically says, "You know she HAS been extraordinarily chipper."

"Oh, don't play that!" says Trace. "You know who it is."

"Just give us the name," says Alex. "I mean you tow had to tak about SOMETHING on the drive here!"

"True," says Sammy. Her usual grin as returned.

"What?" asks Trace. "His name is Tru?"

"You know a guy named 'True'?" asks Sammy in a pseudo-confused tone and grins onece more. "What an odd name... of course, his name COULD have been 'False'..."

"What's his name?" ask Louie. Now, she's even ralled up.

"Whose name?" asks Sammy. She's having fun with this now.

"HIS!" says Alex

"His?" asks Sammy as she points at Darren. "That's Darren. YOUR boyfriend. Pretty bad when you can't remember your own boyfriend's name. Are you brain-dead?"

"Are YOU?" mutters Trace.

"Am I what?" asks Sammy. Now she's "innocently" smiling.

Jack walks back to sit beside Sammy. She says, "Mark said he'll be able to do us a big favor."

"Is his name Mark?!" asks Louie to Jack. Her chocolately eyes grow bright.

"Well, that's what I-- " begins Jack. She stops and faces Sammy with a disappointed look.

"I didn't tell them, SIs," says Sammy. "YOU did."

"No, HIS name is Dean," says Jack.

"Ah," say Tracey, Louie, and Alex almost simultaneously.

"He's a stunt double," says Jack.

"Stunt double?" asks Louie. "Not a skater?"

Jack looks over at Sammy who once is grinning. "And you're NOT twins?!"

"So, who's Mark?" asks Alex as she cuddle closer Darren.

"HE is a skater who does DJing," says Jack as she places her phone up in her left front pocket of her pants.

"You better not be cheating on Dean with Mark!" jokes Sammy.

Jack shoots her a "What the heck?" look.

"We like Matt!" says Sammy. And the rest NOD.

"Dude, you've just got to know OF him," laughs Jack.

"Yeah," says Tracey. "But--" She laughs, "He's not a skater!"

"OH, YEAH!" begins Jack. "He could be a total jerk to puppies and not like oreos, but HEAVEN FORBID I hookup with another skater... You know the lack of skating doesn't make him a better person! It surely wasn't the case with Bob!"

Sammy nods and adds, "Heck. If he was a skater probably wouldn't have wound up like he is now..."

Now, usually awkward situations are broken by Jack and/or Sammy... But even those two were speechless... It was Alex who said, "You mean, he would've died earlier?!" and punctuates it with a bright smile. She hops up and hugs Jack tightly... "So," she begins and squeezes tighter, then in a squeaky voice, "When are we going to meet Deany-boy?!"

"Okay, you're not riding with me on the way back," Jack laughs.


	11. Did Bob Really Deserve It?

While packing his "unnecessary necessities" (as Alex placed it.), it was obvious that something didn't feel right to Darren Elderidge… no matter how many times he lied, "I'm fine." That false statement was (still **is**) followed by at least one of the present Winchester sisters. For a while, Sammy and Jack were even keeping a tally on how many times each asked him what's wrong… in their own style, of course.

Jack's skater-style results in the very, very emotional and heartfelt, "What's up, man?" questionings. But those paled (no pun intended) to the overly zealous and over-insinuating Sammy-isms of "You need to vent?"Let us not forget, my dear friends, Tracey's moving words of, "What's your problem, now?" And, Alex's very empathetic, "Get over yourself!" Oh, finally (but not the least at all!), the totally rood, irresponsible, and apathetic, "What's wrong? Can I help?" HOW DARE SHE?! (Please, someone, get the ϋber-thick sarcasm! For the sake of intellect and knowledge, please!)

So, all of the girls (excluding her royal highness, of course) were curious as to the problem bugging their knight in… teal cloth thing, latex gloves, medial mask, and dead people blood?... armor. Some more than others asked him… and asked more often… okay, LOUIE was asking him the most! "How many times has it been, Sammy?" asks Jack as he watches her other sister approach the paranoid-acting mortician.

"For Fretter?" asks Sammy nonchalantly. Jack chuckles and nods in response and Sammy adds, "Louie has… Thirty-six."

"How about some five-card stud?" asks Jack. Sammy just nods and they both walk over to Lucy's tailgate where they have left their deck.

Louie sits in the back portion of the mortician's Jeep Cherokee making an excellent point to be in the way of his useless and mindless packing. He shuns eye-contact until she finally places her hand on his left forearm to grab his attention. "How many times?' asks Louie. (Man, she should have been a speech speaker.) "How many times have I asked you what's wrong and you've lied 'I'm fine Louie… really.'?" Darren's answer is a shrug and a semi-sly grin, "the rumor is the non-twin twins are keeping score." He tips his head in Jack and Sammy's direction. As if they were psychic, the stated pair smile and wave.

"Did she ask again?!" yells Jack, her usual grin plastered on her face.

""No, I didn't!" hollers back Louie. (… And, no, this isn't a reference to a Gwen Stafani song… Tweens. TT)

A set of disappointed ah's seep from the bed of Lucy, followed by twin-like giggles.

"That makes it still thirty-six!" calls out Sammy.

"Thank you, Sammy!" shouts Darren with a slight smirk on his face once more.

"HEY!" a pair of simultaneous voices shout from the "card playing area".

"Okay. Thank you, Sammy AND JACK!" he laughs/ shouts back.

"THANK YOU and…" starts Sammy.

Jack finishes with, "… You're WEL-COME!"

Both blow kisses and giggle once more like the mischievous pair they are.

"Jack and Sam, you learn to love 'em," quotes Louie.

"Your father?" asks Darren who then quickly darts his eyes away when he sees in her chocolate eyes an expression just begging to be voiced… this would say, "You're an idiot."

"No!" laughs Louie, her eyes change with her tone. "It's partially from 'The Lion King'! …To quote off of the filmmaker, 'My lord! You ARE deprived, aren't ya?!'"

Darren chuckles, "That does seem to sound like something like she'd say… or yell."

"You have no idea, Darren," say Louie. She gently grabs his left wrist and they meet eyes. His nervous pale blue have a hard time staying with her cold yet welcoming chocolaty pair. "Darren, I have had to live with five other women… We all say the same exact thing when we're avoiding any confrontation with… with what's really gnawing at us. Usually, Darren, this is when one needs to talk about it the most… or else, it'll fester, you know?" she says and gives a quiet smile to help fill the pause. "You're a mortician, you should know about how bad festering is!" she jokes. Darren nods and slightly chuckles at her joke.

It was obvious that his formaldehyde-laced brain cells had been gaining speed as Louie started to her very rare "speech". The firing brain cells seemed to never cease their acceleration (nether speeding up nor slowing down) as he began to nod through his own thoughts. Finally, his mouth opened and words were articulated in a slow but thoughtful manner… just like the thinker he is would be expected to speak. "I'm… afraid, Louie," he begins finally meeting her eyes once more. His voice is low, so only Louie could have a chance to hear it. He looks over to the hood of Lucy where Alex and Tracy are discussing … well, SOMETHING. Then, he looks over to the bed of Lucy where Sammy and Jack have been playing five-card stud… with post-its showing what their bets are. Undoubtedly, this was a reference to some show or movie they had viewed… at least once... and loved. Finally, Darren turns to Louie once again, "I also feel… guilty… I mean, did Professor Robertson really deserve the way he died?" finally asks Darren.

His expression changes as he observes the "meek" Louie's transform into a very sinister and frightening guise. Her face has become hard and barely readable. The warmth that once occupied her delightful eyes is now just plain cold, black, and … almost dull. Her shoulder are pulled back to show the aggression that shouldn't have the necessity to be shown, not from such a sweet person. This expression translates to, "No pity." HIS face reacts with a more grim appearance. (… Wait, Is that even possible to see on a mortician?)

"Did Bob deserve it?" Louie almost hisses, Practically spitting when uttering the corpse's name. (Good thing his name wasn't "Steve" or "Seth", huh?") She turns to Jack and Sammy. "Jack!" she yells. Jack's dyed hair whips around in its semi-motley and mostly messy jaunt. It's blonde streak is now mixed with the soft black. "Come here, will ya?" sweetly/darkly asks Louie.


	12. The Past Proves a Great Point

Jack nods quizzically, turns to her pseudo-twin and grins mischievously. Louie asks under her breath and to Darren, "When doesn't she have that grin on? When the subjects of death, Dr. Robertson, Psychology, abuse, and when she's out of cereal." Darren chuckles while from Lucy they hear, "Straight flush!" followed by protest from Sammy.

"You think I'm joking?" asks Louie. Darren's grin seems to slide off his face. "No, no, Darren. You took my tone wrong! She DOES get upset if she's out of cereal. I wouldn't be surprised if she has a 'I "heart" cereal' shirt!"

By now, Jack's halfway to them. The only flaw in her stride is a bit of a hitch from her right hip. This wasn't forcing her to walk like Igor or anything it was just added an almost saddened bounce (if that's even possible) in her stride. Her torso remains somewhat still in a straight and proud carriage, yet her arms casually swing with the alternating legs.

" Was Jack ever in the Service?" asks Darren.

"Jack?!" asks Louie. "No! The military lost her before they could have her… they're not too fond of tattoos," she explains to the confused mortician.

Darren looks at the homicidal maniac (Sorry, I had to!) walking towards them. Her thumbs hitched in her bootcut jeans, thus her hands hiking up the white men's shirt that's splattered with blood. An eyebrow is raised up and her eyes ask, "What did I do?" (in actual innocents, for once, mind you). Her Shoulders are held up high as if to show how much of a shrug she is mentally doing. Jack, for once, is scared… well, for Darren.

"What's up, man?" quietly asks Jack, finally after studying their faces.

"HE," begins Louie and hitches a thumb over at Darren, then, continues, "questions if Bob deserved his death."

"I think so…" quietly answers Jack, still holding her frightened and confused posture.

"Why?" pointedly asks Darren. His eyes plead for sanity as he looks into Jack's mostly golden-green eyes. "Before you answer," he adds with confusion in his tone. "I thought your eyes were honey."

"They're hazel," responds Louie for her, knowing Jack would stutter and stumble over her words. "They change color. Now, Jackie?" Jack's eyes dart over to Louie's as if to ask quietly, "Yes?" Louie hated when Jack was like this. Yes, it was almost cute to see how sweet she can be, but not at the expense of fear. "Will ya show and try to explain to our dear friend, Mr. Elderidge, here, why Doctor Robert W. Roberson deserved such a gruesome and trourturous death… possibly more?" Jack nods ssweetly and quietly again and her shoulders slowly drop down as she lets her arms rest at her sides. "Mind you, Darren, this is only the physical reasons. None of the emotional… psychological… nor financial are shown here."

"FINANCIAL?" questions Darren in awe.

"Please," softly beings Jack. Darren's head is almost thrown off of its stem from the shock-catalyzed force. "don't' ask question Darren. It'll only make the stuttering and verbal stumbling worse." It seemed almost impossible that this was the same person who, only moments ago won at a hand of five-card stud with her pseudo-twin and shouted the winning hand. She softly adds, "Please, also, refrain from gasping and gaping…" Her voice so sweet, Darren could swear if she wasn't going to make him cry, he could do it by just saying "boo". It was mentally killing him to see her like this; no matter convinced he was that he had made the right choice.

She unbuttoned her vest and her men's shirt, revealing a white cami-top underneath. Her shoulder and arms are coved in a mix of scars and tattoos. Mostly scars upon scars, though. Two small tattoos grace her collar bones stating in a beautiful script "Smile" and "Love". She hands her shirt and vest to her sister, revealing even more scars lining her inner arms. The vertical gruesome and angry stripes show that these were not self-inflicted… and certainly not with this force nor angle. Plus, especially to Darren (being from a medical background), the gashes along the veins indicate an intention for murder, not for relief of stress, plus Jack is known for not supporting such acts.

"These," she softly begins and spreads her arms out to show more and continues, "Are not my doing." The more she spoke, the more strength she had in her voice. "HE wanted to, at first, 'teach' me a 'lesson'." She points at the scars around her shoulders and her outer arms. "Then, when I didn't comply THEN he wanted my LIFE." She offers, pointedly, her wrists showing the angry red scars. "… couldn't have enough decency of sterilizing the blades." She hands the arm warms to Louie and nods a thank you. She then reveals more of her torso. Scars cover her ribs and a puncture scar lies above her heart. She, then, lowers the cami and motions for her clothes. Upon receiving them, she quietly says, "Thank you, Louie." She places the arm warmers back on and nods to Darren. She, then heads back to Sammy, Alex and Tracey.

"Oh. My. Lord," Darren states more to himself than to Louie. His voice wavers as though he might actually cry or vomit. "He-- he-- he DID th-that?!" he asks pointing to Jack. "To her? And—and she has to live with that?!"

Louie glares at him and sarcastically states, "NO, Jack's a drama queen and did her least favored for of stress relief in order to justify herself!" This may seem to be out of character to Darren, of course, how much did he really know about the Winchester sisters?

"How does she do it?" quietly and in awe asks Darren.

"I have no idea," solemnly states Louie.

Form then on the problem was no longer whether or not Dr. Robertson deserved his death, for Darren. He now is fighting with whether or not he should report it to the police that these girls killed him. But, how can he do that without getting his girlfriend and himself in trouble? Already he was working as a mortician AND a bartender at the Den to help pay for his medical school debt. He, surely, cannot afford time in prison as a bonus.


	13. Lucky Thirteen

Louie walks up to Jack and Sammy, who sit in Ida. The two are discussing what they should listen to on the way to the Den, which gives Louie more than enough reason to… laugh her butt off, as she watches an almost mirrored argument. The pseudo-twins are definitely arguing like an old couple.

"I don't want to listen to Supertramp again!" says Sammy. "We're already in a sad mood. We don't need you in an even sadder mood with 'Lord is it Mine' playing!"

Jack snickers and pokes Sammy, "Influenced you!" Then, returns to her side of the argument,

"FINE! What about the Dresden Dolls?" she asks.

"Screaming Lady?" asks Sammy with a half grin. The two of them could never really argue… for some unknown reason.

"Oh!"says Jack. She rolls her eyes and smiles. "Here. We. Go. A-gain!" she enunciates every word.

"Why would I want to hear Screaming Lady?' asks Sammy.

"I. D. K.! My B. F. F. Jill?!" asks Jack in a VERY un-common peppy/preppy tone.

They both burst out laughing.

"What are we going to listen to Nellie?" asks Jack, using the companioned nickname that Sammy and her dubbed upon each other. (What do you expect of a couple of chicks who are crazy in more senses than one about "Sweeney Todd"?)

"I dunno, Benny," responds Sammy, calling her pseudo-twin with the appropriate nickname companion.

"Hey! Mrs. Lovett! Mr. Barker!" says Louie.

"'No, not Barker. That man is de-...'" Jack begins to quote in a flat-tone and one raised finger, but she is interrupted by Sammy covering her mouth, once more. Jack lowers her hand and exhales loudly in distaste.

"Benny," warns Sammy and removes her hand.

"At least, I didn't ask out future brother-in-law if he'd like a shave!" says Jack with a smile and bright eyes. She punctuates this declaration by grinning wider and closing her eyes... a somewhat smug grin.

"Benny!" shouts Sammy and "Jacklyn!" yells Louie, simultaneously.

She then crosses her left arm across her chest, rests her right elbow on that arm, and rests her head on her right fist. ""Of course, I AM without my blades," she adds. Then, she smiles and turns away as Louie and Sammy gasp and repeat themselves.

"That's horrible to joke about!" says Louie, in her stern tone.

"Yeah," adds Sammy. Then grins while adding, "You know morticians make terrible meat pies!"

Jack laughs with full enjoyment of this and Louie yells, "Samantha!", enunciating every syllable.

"Okay, Sammy," says Jack. "I'll have to agree with Louie on this one. That's taking it a bit far..."

Louie nods at the temporary sanity emitting from Jack and once again gasps as Jack says,

"Morticians don't taste THAT bad."

She continues through Sammy's laughing and Louie's warning, "I mean, yeah they're a bit formaldehyde-ey. And, let's face it, sometimes he looks even deader than the people he works with... or on... however you see it. BUT, still..."

Now, Sammy is trying to regain her breath

Louie looks as though she might cry or join in on the laughter. It seems she might actually join when the sound of a vehicle pulling up emits into the alley.

The cherry red Chevelle pulls up beside Ida and two men step out. They aren't able to close their doors when they are called.

"Dean!" yells Jack and "Jack!" Sammy yells, simultaneously.

The men both grin as they walk around to appropriate places of Ida. Their grins vary like their clothes.

Dean Beckett dressed black pants, black polished dress shoes, a white dress shirt, a black with white polka dotted wide tie, and a black formal jacket. The cuffs of the shirt are past the cuff of the jacket and the collar is above the jacket. As he walks to the opened driver's door, he places a black top hat on and taps a bamboo cane on the ground.

"YOU CHARMER!" yells Jack from the driver's seat as she steps out.

Jack Holland, in contrast of the Winchester sister with the same name, has his natural dirty blonde hair in a messy long/short haircut. His dark green eyes lighten up and become greener (If that's even possible) to equate his delighted girlfriend who now has officially almost tackled him as she hugs him.

"Oof! Happy to see you too, Sammy!' he chuckles as he embraces his girlfriend. Her head hits his band t-shirted chest… she's not really short, he's really tall.

"I REALLY missed you though!" she chuckles into his Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon shirt. She seems to be trying to inhale and retain his smell.

On the other side of Ida, Jack has her arms across her chest and grins, "So, how long have you been planning this?"

"A couple of minutes after you told me you were coming home for the break," Dean says, only shrugging.

"Why did you come?" asks Jack, actual loss of humor has come through. She's not angry she's concerned. "I told ya that there was no use for ya to come here and risk your life!" says Jack, her voice sounding as though she's about to cry or she's giving a one of the crew members a lecture about what he or she should learn from their newest mess up. It's more of a chiding, but the message is all-encompassing clear.

"I heard it's over," says Dean and nods over to the captured Jack who are across Ida. Jack looks over to her sister's boyfriend after leaning onto the roof of the blood red bug. Jack's dark green eyes become bright green with the meeting of "Sister Jack's" (as Jack calls her) hazel pair. One eyebrow is arched up and one finger motions him to come hither, so the roof of Ida will become their impromptu table of discussion. Jack slightly detaches from Sammy, so that she is on his right side. Her right arm is on her back and leans on his left that is propped against the roof. His arm seems to tighten around Sammy (as though he could just use her against "vampiric Jackie venom words"… another Holland-ism)

(To eliminate confusion, I will now call Jack Winchester, "Benny". 'Cause she'd kill almost anyone who called her "Jacklyn".)

"So, Jacky-boy…" begins Benny.

"Oh, crap, here we go," says Jack.

"Jack, Jack, Jack!" coos Benny with a grin. "Dude, I just wanted to ask you how long have you and Dean been communicating?"

"Since high school," smugly answers Jack.

"Pardon?" asks Benny. "High school? High school buddies, eh?"

"Jack nods and adds, "You wanna go by nicknames or middle names again?" He waggles his eyebrows at Benny to make her giggle.

"Yeh, you jerk!" she says and adds. "Where's my hug?"

Without either speaking to each other, they both jump up onto the vintage bug's roof and hug each other and then slug-bug each other shouting, "Slug bug, Ida!", simultaneously. They places an arm around the other as they walk to down the back of Ida.

"Dude, you've been hanging out with Sammy way… well, totally not enough, but still ya know," yammers Benny. She straightens up in her posture… She's inspired. She jumps off of the trunk of Ida before Jack reaches it, and runs over to her pseudo-twin, "Sammy! Nellie-Love!" almost yells Benny. "I've got it! I've bleeding got it!"She hugs her Sammy and then dives into the bug's still open passenger side and flips through her vintage-license plate CD case. She looks across the bug to her Sam of "Benny and Joon" look-alike boyfriend, who's peering down into the bug. "Hey Dean! Guess what! The music issue is solved! I got it, well, for now!" she says in a tone full of energy and bubbliness.

"What just happened, Jack?" asks Dean to his(What would be seen as a …) raving maniac of a girlfriend. If he didn't know any better he would've thought she just shot up with coke.

"Inspiration, love," she says in a less bubbly. She winks at him and pulls out Nirvana's "Nevermind" on CD. Yeh, vintage, but she has a modern radio player. She puts the disc up to the CD player and gives herself an eye roll and laughs. She looks over to Dean, who automatically turns the key to the auxiliary position without her having to ask. His face has a cute "I'm not too sure about this" expression on it. Once the radio starts playing, he has a slight grin on his face.

Benny nods a thank you and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. She inserts the CD and hops out of the bug. She closes the distance between the group around Lucy and calls out, "Girls?"

No response from the group. Benny rolls her eyes and hollers, "GIRLS?" No response again. Finally, Benny yells, "OYE! CHICAS!"

Finally, the four girls and the two men look over. "I'd like to introduce Dean Beckett to you all."

Dean nods a hello.

"Dean? My family. My family? Dean," says Benny.

The four girls walk up to him and talk all at ones. Dean's face turns from fear of denial to amused confusion. They leave him alone as quickly as they began to mob him, and then returned to their previous positions at Lucy.  
"Do they do that… often?" asks Dean, almost in a daze, as Jack hugs him a thank you.

"Yeh. By the way, did you have to dress up so well and be so quiet? I love how… Sam-like you can be, but I NEED you," states Benny.  
"I am me," quietly states Dean and holds her in his arms. Their eyes meet and the message was sent.

"I know you're nervous. You don't have to be. They're not that bad," says Benny. He looks over at the other six and back at her in a pseudo-feared expression. "I mean it," adds Jack.

"Okay," says Dean. "I'll give them my best."

"Dean?" asks Benny.

"Yeh, Jack?" answers Dean.

"Don't worry. They love ya, already," adds Benny.


	14. Can I Touch Your Sleeve?

The nine of them sit around in the Den. The pseudo-twins and their boyfriends sit on the black barstools. These are actual stools that you can slide AWAY from the bar. Tracey said when she first got The Wolves' Den, "I want my bar to have some feel of a home, not an… an… an industry. That's why the only fluorescents are in the pool table lights and the stools pull back out." Frankie had said that the stools would easily break in a fight being wood, but all ten still sat there loyally at their posts, after five years, countless concerts, and almost an infinite amount of bar fights. Plus, none of them show a crack.

"I don't know," admits Jack. "I mean, it's almost like this was scribbled down by some post high school kid trying to keep their hands from packing their stuff for college and their minds off of their future home. And, all of they can rely on is interesting dialogue and even more intriguing characters." He shrugs as if trying to shake off the weird feeling and sips some of his Dr. Pepper.

Benny chuckles on the other side of Sammy, "'a half a page of scribbled lines'… good ol' Pink Floyd." She takes a sip of her Mountain Dew. Dean motions he wants a sip. "Nuh-uh, man, you get weird when you have caffeine." Dean acts bummed out. (sighs He always looks so cute that way.) Therefore, it's no shocker to find Benny hugging her boyfriend while calling him a jerk.

"A pre-college kid? Oh please, Jack. No kid could create something like this," says Tracey, still wiping at the already beautifully gleaming bar. "I mean, maybe a really desperate writer, maybe, but not someone with actual talent nor someone with an actual education."

"'I calls them as I sees them'," quotes Jack while shrugging and taking another sip of his Dr. Pepper.

"Alright, sure, Jack," says Benny. "Go ahead and think that. Ah, why not conspire with the writer then?"

"That's just it, Sister Jack, I don't know how to get a hold of the writer," says Jack. He shrugs and grins, "IF it were true."

"Sister Jack?" asks Sammy. "What is she? A nun?"

Jack and Benny laugh at the comment. "No, Twin," says Benny. "That's what he calls me." Points to herself and she says, "'Sister Jack'." Then, she points to Jack and states, "'Brother Jack'."

"I'm dating… a monk?" asks Sammy. She turns to Jack with no sign of humor on her face. "When did this happen?"

"What?" asks Jack totally confused about what she's talking about. "Dude, Jack and I use them to establish which Jack they're referring to!"

"Who are this 'THEY' that you are talking about, Jack?" asks Sammy.

Benny turns into Dean's shoulder to help muffle her giggles. "He's so cutesy when he's paranoid, Dean," she whispers. "But, never as cute as you can be." Dean just nods and places an arm around her as a response, as if to say, "Yeh, I know you love me."

"I'm talking about you all in general… you know anyone other than Jack and I," says Jack.

"Sure, you are," pseudo-scoffs Sammy, crossing her arms for even more of an effect. Jack's clean-shaven jaw drops, he then soon begins to babble.

Benny relinquishes her lovable Dean, gets up, heads to the other side of Jack, stops, and turns back. She returns just in time to remove her Mountain Dew from her boyfriend's hand. She takes her drink with her to the other side of Jack. She plants herself there and interrupts his ranting, "So, Brother Jack…"

Jack turns to his girlfriend's sister, "Yes, Sister Jack?"

"Exactly, what is your job?" asks Benny in a goofy, overly-girly and falsetto tone. The pseudo-twins' trademark grin has once again taken its post on Benny's face.

"Well, I'm a guitarist and a bartender as you know, Sister Jack," answers Jack, a confused grin on his face.

"No," warns Sammy. "No, Benny. I mean it! No! Noooooo…" She begins to lean over her boyfriend towards her "twin".

Benny ("Sister Jack") keeps the same goofy tone and quotes, "'That sounds interesting slash dangerous. Can I touch your sleeve? I want to touch your sleeve.'" This, ladies and gentleman is from the show "Psych" and its "Psych-Outs", one of many shows that the pseudo-twins love to watch. Quite possible Sister Jack's favorite show, tied to "Supernatural", of course.

Jack gasps and laughs in the same breath. His dark green eyes again take a playful shine in them; they seem to take that every time he and his "Sister Jack" go at witty sparing.

"BENNY!" Sammy yells as her laughing boyfriend holds her back, preventing her from lovingly strangle her sister.

Dean, who was once very silent (and VERY bummed), is now almost literally rolling around with laughter is the exact example of how Jack and him are still in a relationship; they intrigue and amuse each other.

"What?" asks Benny in a very, very smug/innocent tone to her sibling who has now given up on strangling and has now joined in laughing. "You'll get me back, Nellie!"

"That—that is true," admits Sammy between gasps of air.


End file.
